Today, let us give praise to the Irish - who actually got coffee right by kicking up the alcohol content, and invented a holiday so great that everyone else in the world just wishes they were Irish today.
Personally, I'm the grandson of a piano-playing redheaded son of County Cork, who never quite got around to marrying my grandmother before skedaddling out of town under cover of darkness, but did leave her with a wee bairn who became my Dad. (Quick! Everyone raise a pint in honor of me bastard father!)
And speaking of bastards, he sequed deftly, let us not forget that Barack O'Bama himself claims to be Irish, pointing out that he is descended from Irish residents of the small and almost unbelievably ironically-named town of Moneygall. No, really. Although it's far more likely that he'll be on the green today, rather than wearing any.
But let us not talk of such unpleasantness today, and instead raise a glass to the Saint who drove the filthy snakes out of Ireland...and offer up a little prayer that he'll soon do the same in Washington.